Your touch
by Circeus
Summary: Iori just needed a hand with bread making. Jou, however, would want Iori's hands all for himself. [Jouri] [oneshot]


Jou loosened his tie while he waited for the door to open. He gave a slight sigh at the thought of what it might look like inside. With Iori settling into his own apartment, he had needed crash courses in cooking. Even though he had all the basics down, he still insisted to help as often as possible when food was involved.

Jou smiled in pride. But bread? No surprise Iori had called for help. That was more than he could chew. Of course, Mimi and Miyako just couldn't resist when he requested to do it. Jou shook his head slightly. He could have done it himself, but he just didn't have the time. Or even the equipment, he added mentally with a sweatdrop. He still needed to borrow his neighbor's oven if he needed to do as much as heat up a pizza.

The one problem with bread is that it must be eaten quickly after it is made, so it was not at all surprising that Iori would be on the verge of panic. After all, Daisuke's birthday party was tomorrow.

After what seemed like an eternity, a dishevelled and flour-covered Iori opened the door. With a quick smile, he grabbed his mentor's collar and dragged him in. Jou gulped. He had more than a passing interest in the younger man, and had signified so before, but Iori had implied he couldn't afford a relationship at the time. To Jou, it just seemed to make everything slightly more awkward than it should be.

"It seemed easy, but ever since I've started this, things have been going from bad to worse, and I'm starting to run out of flour and sourdough..." Iori explained.

Jou looked around the kitchen, which looked like a disaster zone. The pair probably had thought Armadimon's Scratch Beat would make a great way to knead the dough, if the splatters were any indication. He heard a soft moan from the other side of the couch and shot Iori an inquisitive look.

"He's been testing the results... He's quite full by now," Iori explained.

_Mental note: Make sure there is soda left after this is over,_ Jou thought.

He approached a bowl and dipped a finger the cool, whitish goo inside.

"Is _ this_ your sourdough?" he asked.

"Yes."

Jou took the plastic bowl.

"This," he said, walking to the trash can, "is useless."

The bowl was ceremoniously dropped inside, and Jou turned toward the distressed Iori.

"You left it to ferment in the fridge right?"

"Ah yes... I though if it fermented longer, it would be okay. There are lots of flies around this time of the year," he said with embarrassment.

"No it doesn't. It has to be left at a temperature near 30 ?," Jou explained. "You basically made acidic cookies."

"What are we going to do now? We don't have time to raise the bread properly!" A pause. "And how do you know so much about bread making anyway?"

Jou was already busy clearing off the counter for space. He dusted his sleeves with a smile, many good memories coming to him.

"My uncle has a bakery. We used to visit him on a regular basis," Jou answered. "Now I'm going to tell you a secret. Most bread are made with sourdough, and require time to rise, so the yeasts can produce gas. However, if you can produce the gas with a different process, you get a bread that you can make in less than an hour..."

Iori's lips rounded into a "oh" of understanding.

"so we will make Irish soda bread," Jou continued.

Iori turned around and fumbled around to hand him baking soda. The elder chosen quickly looked around and checked the items with his mental list of ingredients. Then he slapped his forehead. Why didn't he remember that?

"You don't happen to have buttermilk, do you?" he sighed desperately.

"Actually, I do."

Jou stared at him. Iori smiled sheepishly.

"It's for a sauce recipe my mother gave me. It's quite amazing. I'll make sure to invite you at some point."

Jou smiled back and stepped aside to let Iori do the mixing. He was always amazed at the way Iori seemed to be at ease as he moved through the world. No hitting his head on doors, walking into walls, kicking into furniture. All the opposite of himself, which made it a real wonder Jou had managed to become a medicine intern at all, Mimi would comment. Unfortunately, though, Iori couldn't knead dough to save his life. Jou moved behind him and took the hands in his own, as he used to do when they were still fighting the Digimon Kaiser. Iori seemed startled at first, but did nothing to fight the movement Jou's arms imposed on his. At first, the doctor's reflex was to back away in surprise.

_Such warmth. Real solar hands._

He smiled lightly. Iori certainly didn't watch _Yakitate Japan!!_. That would have been great tasting bread if he could have made it properly. But Jou didn't doubt this would do just fine. Iori suggested adding some chocolate chips (his original plan) to the mix. Although Jou scoffed at the idea, it _was_ Daisuke's birthday, and the young man would definitely love it, so he nodded.

Such hands... Jou couldn't help but wonder how they would feel somewhere else than where they are. He fought the hardening of his member the best he could. Than there was a hand with chocolate smears in his field of vision. The dough was almost ready, and Iori busy licking his other hand clean. Jou started sucking on the index before he noticed there was actually no chocolate on it, making Iori look at him with a look that implied he was more intrigued than annoyed. Encouraged, Jou started actually licking.

And then Iori was well into his personal space; uneasy, suddenly clumsy and oh so warm hands feeling at his body. Along the way, several buttons came undone and those hands were all over his chest. Jou's finger found their way under Iori's T-shirt, causing the young man's breath to quicken. He could feel an erection more advanced than his own press through Iori's light lounging pants. Then lips were on his and Jou forgot about the world, about Daisuke, about the digimon practically in the same room, about the bread. He just wanted to keep sucking at those folds of flesh for all of eternity, even though they vanished away too quickly. But then, all of eternity would still have been way too short.

"Wait, the bread..." Iori requested in a pant, then nodded toward the couch. "And Armadimon..."

Just to contradict him, Armadimon snored loudly. Iori shook his head and separated the dough into balls while Jou prepared the oven. The future loaves slid in and left the two confused humans facing each others. Jou tried to clear up his mind.

"I... uh...think I'll be...err... going..." he mumbled.

He began to turn around, but Iori grabbed at his wrist. The heat immediately rekindled the flush to Jou's face. He looked behind in Iori's eyes.

"Please... stay?" the younger man hesitantly asked.

He hadn't needed to bother, Jou thought. His eyes told more than he could ever ask for. The want, the desire, the feelings, the self-doubt, the hesitation, the unbridled emotions he couldn't control. And more than anything, they said "Don't leave me now."

* * *

**Author's notes:** I admit not knowing much, if anything about the exact ins and outs of making bread, so I apologize for any blatant inaccurate elements this fic might contain. **This is a _one-shot_! There _will not_ be "more" of it. Any request of such will be summarily mocked and/or deleted.**


End file.
